The Notebook - By Nicholas Sparks Page 0,25

think it is. Your problem is that you’re alone. Your father made the Hammond name famous, and you’ve probably been compared to him all your life. You’ve never been your own person. A life like that makes you empty inside, and you’re looking for someone who will magically fill that void. But no one can do that but you.”

The words had stayed with him that night and rung true the following morning. He’d called again, asked for a second chance, and after some persistence, she’d reluctantly agreed.

In the four years they’d dated, she’d become everything he ever wanted, and he knew he should spend more time with her. But practicing law made limiting his hours impossible. She’d always understood, but still, he cursed himself for not making the time. Once he was married, he’d shorten his hours, he promised himself. He’d have his secretary check his schedule to make sure he wasn’t overextending himself. . . .

Check? ...

And his mind clicked another notch.

Check . . . checking . . . checking in?

He looked to the ceiling. Checking in?

Yes, that was it. He closed his eyes and thought for a second. No. Nothing. What, then?

C’mon, don’t fail now. Think, damn it, think. New Bern.

The thought popped into his head just then. Yes, New Bern. That was it. The little detail, or part of it. What else, though?

New Bern, he thought again, and knew the name. Knew the town a little, mainly from a few trials he had been in. Stopped there a few times on the way to the coast. Nothing special. He and Allie had never been there together.

But Allie had been there before. . . .

And the rack tightened its grip, another part coming together.

Another part. . . but there was more. . . .

Allie, New Bern . . . and . . . and . . . something at a party. A comment in passing. From Allie’s mother. He’d hardly noticed it. But what had she said?

And Lon paled then, remembering. Remembering what had been said so long ago. Remembering what Allie’s mother had said.

It was something about Allie being in love one time with a young man from New Bern. Called it puppy love. So what, he had thought when he’d heard it, and had turned to smile at Allie.

But she hadn’t smiled. She was angry. And then Lon guessed that she had loved that person far more deeply than her mother had suggested. Maybe even more deeply than she loved him.

And now she was there. Interesting.

Lon brought his palms together, as though he were praying, resting them against his lips. Coincidence? Could be nothing. Could be exactly what she said. Could be stress and antique shopping. Possible. Even probable.

Yet . . . yet . . . what if?

Lon considered the other possibility, and for the first time in a long time, he became frightened.

What if? What if she’s with him?

He cursed the trial, wishing it were over. Wishing he had gone with her. Wondering if she’d told him the truth, hoping that she had.

And he made up his mind then not to lose her. He would do anything it took to keep her. She was everything he’d always needed, and he’d never find another quite like her.

So, with trembling hands, he dialed the phone for the fourth and last time that evening.

And again there was no answer.

Kayaks and Forgotten Dreams

Allie woke early the next morning, forced by the incessant chirping of starlings, and rubbed her eyes, feeling the stiffness in her body. She hadn’t slept well, waking after every dream, and she remembered seeing the hands of the clock in different positions during the night, as if verifying the passage of time.

She’d slept in the soft shirt he’d given her, and she smelled him once again while thinking about the evening they’d spent together. The easy laughter and conversation came back to her, and she especially remembered the way he’d talked about her painting. It was so unexpected, yet uplifting, and as the words began to replay in her mind, she realized how sorry she would have been had she decided not to see him again.

She looked out the window and watched the chattering birds search for food in early light. Noah, she knew, had always been a morning person who greeted dawn in his own way. She knew he liked to kayak or canoe, and she remembered the one morning she’d spent with him in his canoe, watching the sun come up. She’d had to